Pariah
by vancekennard
Summary: The pain will never fade. (Starfighter Comic fanfiction. A Praxis fic!)
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Starfighter Comic or any rights to Starfighter Comic. I don't own the awesome characters. Everything belongs to HamletMachine._

CHAPTER ONE

It turned me on. There was something about such a big, bright fireball thriving inside of a small person. I supposed being attracted to Blake was okay, as long as the yearning was in my pants and not in my heart. I had been told many times by my dad that crushes were tolerable, and lust was unavoidable, but love was a curse.

Blake reached up, and squeezed the bridge of my nose. "Praxis, pay attention."

I slapped the hand away. "I am." I wasn't. I was too busy admiring those big blue eyes, and the floppy fair-hair that Blake hated, but suited him so well.

"Then why are you so awful," Blake said cheekily. "At some point you'll need to move your hips. Let's go back to the basics."

"If we must."

The younger teen stepped onto my feet and wrapped his arms around my neck. We had to slow dance that way, since I was so much taller.

"Why do I get the feeling you're dragging this out on purpose?"

I gave him a cocky smile. "I'm only giving you what you want."

"Oh, well then," Blake huffed as our bodies swayed. "You're terrible at that too, because I want to be kiss—"

I swooped down and pressed our lips together. Blake made a surprised sound in the back of his throat as my eager tongue wormed its way into his mouth. His hands gripped my shoulders as he jerked away. I had never seen him so beautiful, with his face flushed and his eyes wide.

"With all this flirting we've done, all these years." Blake's head fell against my chest. "I didn't think you had it in you."

The memory of my first kiss was ripped away from me rather violently. The world turned into a strange blur of colors and darkness. The pain pulsating in my head outweighed the sting in my bones, but both were alarming.

I began to make sense of familiar noises – the scratch of boots on metal and the hiss of engines. I was on the hanger bay. I'd passed out after I was pulled out of the Tiberius. I was lifted by faceless figures, and felt the flimsiness of a stretcher as memories started playing vividly in my head again.

_So your life really does flash before your eyes_, I thought, before passing out again.

"You're so confident all the time."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It is when you're considering joining the alliance."

My dad was sitting across from me, in our tiny booth at Chuck's diner. We ate there, at the same booth, every Friday. That night the place was full of fighters, who were on leave after a staggering victory against the Colterons. Dad kept glancing at the pack by the bar, then staring me in the eye. I mostly avoided those dark eyes, out of habit. Eye contact with dear old dad gave me strange feelings, because we looked too alike. It was as if I was staring at my future, wrinkled, grey haired self. Sometimes I wondered if that's why mother didn't take me with her when she left. It must've hurt to bore a child who had the face of someone you hated.

"What does Blake think? He hates this war."

"He understands my interest, but he thinks I could do better."

"He's right."

"I don't know, dad. Doesn't the fighter shortage bother you?"

"It worries all of us, but even if you could make a difference, survive the turf wars," Dad paused, while giving the fighters a morbid look. "All kinds join the alliance, but those who become fighters, they all end up the same. You want that mentality and reputation following you for life?"

I looked at the fighters and studied their faces. Those that weren't hardened by war still had an edge, a little crazy in the eyes, here, a little rage in a gaze, there. Only a few seemed like normal guys in a uniform, but they didn't receive much acknowledgement from the group.

Dad cleared his throats, then he started venting, saying humans evolved with technology too fast, saying they weren't ready for the power of Gods.

"I think-" I almost cut in when the check came, but thought better of it.

"What, boy?" Dad prodded.

I shrugged. "Can I go to Blake's, for a couple hours?"

"If you can get your behind back by curfew this time."

"Thanks, dad."

I walked the four blocks from the diner to Blake's tiny, mushroom shaped home. He was in the driveway, shooting hoops with his little brother, Mikel. The hologram basketball stand flickered as Blake took a shot, and the ball swished through the neon blue hoop.

"Hey," Mikel hollered, when he spotted me on the sidewalk. "You're stalking my brother again?"

"Every night," I teased.

"Where's your hover bike?" Blake yelled, as he ran to meet me at the end of the driveway.

I leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek. "Home. I walked from Chuck's."

Dissatisfied with the chaste hello kiss, Blake grabbed the back of my neck and brought my face down for a kiss on the mouth. Kiss #75 (Yes, I kept count) was hot and wet and over too quickly, but I was grateful it left me with more breath than kiss #74, so I could whisper, "Love you," in Blake's ear.

When we pulled apart Mikel made a face. "Get a room."

Blake stuck out his tongue. "Jealous?"

"If I were into guys I'd find one cuter than a Colteron."

We all chuckled at the comment just as the sky went black. My stomach dropped as I looked up and saw the belly of a massive ship whiz by.

It all happened very quickly then. Blake rushed into the house, shouting his parents' names as he passed his brother, Mikel's eyes fixed on the sky, and I turned to see a wall of ashes barreling towards us.

I heard Mikel gasp, "What the hell?"

It was the last thing anyone would hear him say.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"_Praxis_?"

What was that?

"_Praxis_?"

Someone calling my name – no, not my name. Not really, but it was seeping into my subconscious now. Once a fighter, always a fighter… that's what dad thought… even in your own head…

"_Praxis_?"

Even in your own memories…

"_Praxis, please._"

I woke up in hell.

There were screams, the howl of sirens, and smoke and fire was all that could be seen for miles.

Blake was somewhere close, calling to me. I began to crawl toward his pleas. "Blake."

"Praxis, you're alive?" he croaked.

"I'm coming. Stay still."

"Mikel's dead," he cried, his voice carrying so much grief. "Viv and Carl too…"

Viv and Carl. My second parents. Blake's only parents. Mikel, the closest thing I had to a brother, and Blake's only sibling. How – why?

When I reached him I could barely make out his face, his mouth was covered by his shirt. Sometimes I wished the moon hadn't been so bright that night, then maybe the sight of Mikel wouldn't have been so gruesome. Blake's arms trembled as he clung onto his dead brother. Mikel was covered in blood. Debris was sticking out of his body. While I was out it must have rained down on me as well, but all I had to show for it were cuts covering my right arm and face that were no longer than an inch. Blake didn't have a scratch on him.

"We need to get inside," I coughed out.

Blake stared off into space. "If I didn't run in, they wouldn't have gone to the window. They wouldn't have been standing in just the right spot."

"Come on." I grabbed him by the shoulders and he struggled to hold on to Mikel as I pulled him up. I tore Blake free from his hold on his brother and the body slumped back down to the ground.

"No!"

"He's dead, you said so yourself," I barked. "There's nothing we can do for him."

I lifted him in my arms, carrying him the way a groom carries a bride. He was not happy. He pounded on my chest with his fists and kicked his legs. I tuned out his shrieks. My fuzzy mind became focused on one thing, finding the house. Black smoke was still obstructing my view though, and it took running into Blake's mailbox for me to realize I'd gone the wrong way.

I cursed under my breath as I stumbled backwards in the other direction, miraculously keeping myself from falling on my ass until my back touched cool aluminum. Relief washed over me. We'd made it the garage. I could find my way to the door from there.

"Did you close the door when you came back out?" I asked Blake.

He stopped struggling and sighed in defeat. "I don't think so."

He was right. When we reached the door it was wide open. Smoke had filled the house so much that I didn't bother closing it as we entered. I hurried us to the bathroom at the back of the house and dropped Blake in the bathtub. He hugged his knees to his chest as he watched me climb atop the vanity so I could close the vent. Next I jumped down and soaked two of the guest towels in the sink before pushing them against the space under the door. Then I wetted the last towel and climbed into the tub with Blake.

"Hold this to your face." I handed him one end of the towel. "And breathe in through your nose."

"For how long?"

"Until help comes."

An evacuation team found us twelve minutes later, on the edge of hope.

As the team strapped oxygen delivery masks to our faces I thought of my aunt, Anya. She carried around an oxygen tank for a year while she waited for her new set of lungs to finish growing in a lab. I wondered if I'd need the same treatment, because of how fierce the burning pain in my chest felt. However, the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish that struck me in the gut when two of the first responders started talking about the attack, as they tended to us in a flying ambulance.

"Just got a call from the wife before the last stop," a medic whispered. "The news is saying it was Colterons. One other place was hit, supposedly the hometown of some navigators. The sons o' bitches might've targeted Chuck's 'cause they were after fighters."

Chuck's was hit. Chuck's was the target. Dad had gone straight home, but home wasn't all that far from the diner. Did he make it?

"People have been speculating that we played dirty to win that last battle ever since the fighters came home," the other medic commented. "There's been talk that we attacked on ceasefire territory." The woman's face went red with anger. "It sets a terrible precedent when we don't honor our treaties."

So the war was getting uglier, again.

When we arrived at the hospital we were looked over once, then the doctor gave us marching orders. Even though we could have permanent lung damage after breathing all that crap into our lungs, we were considered incredibly healthy compared to the other patients that were filling up the ER.

I called dad at the reception desk, and thanked the heavens when he answered his cell. He was at another hospital. He hadn't been hurt, but he'd been searching for me there since it was closer to Blake's house.

"I guess they took you to Mercy because it's so crowded here," dad said dejectedly. I could hear the chaos around him.

"Yeah, it's crowded here too. It'll be ages before you make it out of the parking lot if you come here. We'll meet you down the street, at the coffee shop on the corner."

"Okay. I'll be right there."

I hung up and looked at Blake. "Do you want to call your grandparents before we go?"

He shook his head. He'd barely said a word since the bathroom.

"They must be worried."

"I can't tell them. I'm not the right person."

"You're the only person."

Blake shook his head harder. "I didn't even like them."

"Blake—"

"I hadn't even called them mom or dad in years. But I-I loved them. Do you think they knew?"

He looked so lost, and the desperation in his voice clawed at my heart. I embraced him and in an instant we went from being well collected to a weeping mess.

"I'm sure they did," I sobbed, as he hugged me back so tightly that his touch marked my flesh.

My eyes fluttered open. There was still a sterile smell in the air, but there was no Blake.

I was in the sickbay, on the space station.

"Hey, you're awake." I looked up at the sandy haired young man who was standing over me. He was dressed in an immaculate white uniform and he was wearing an expression that was a cross between pity and fatigue.

There was still a slight pain in my head; it trickled down one side of my face. I reached up to touch the throbbing spot and that's when I felt the patch.

Oh, Blake. I'm alive, but there's yet another part of me missing.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

He was so beautiful, but he was so young and small.

He was eager to continue, but was ignorant of what existed past the point of no return.

I wanted him in every way, but he was already mine in the way that mattered most, so why rush?

"You're not exactly _experienced_ either," Blake pouted, as if he'd read my mind. "And girls shouldn't count in this situation."

I caught a glimpse of my bed in the corner of my eye. It was so inviting. The sheets and pillows were already jumbled.

"When it comes to guys, you're a virgin toooo," the little devil persisted.

"Give it a rest. My dad will be home soon." I pushed him up and off my lap, and went back to typing my Physics paper.

He crossed his arms and looked at my wall clock. "Fifteen minutes is plenty of time."

My mouth twitched. "Not if we want to do it right."

In retrospect it would have been perfect to have done it then. In a sloppy, fast fashion that wouldn't have been earth shattering, but would have took us to the next level during a simple time in our lives.

After the attack nothing was simple. So when Blake tip toed into my room one night, two months after the event, I was rather conflicted. We'd been through so much together, surely going beyond was only natural at this point, but I felt like he wasn't doing it for the right reasons, like it was another way for him to try to forget things he'd always remember.

"If dad catches you in here—"

"He's passed out."

"Blake—"

"Do you want me to go?"

"No, but we don't have to do anything. We could just… cuddle," I offered.

Blake tugged at the hem of my shirt. "I don't want to cuddle."

Kiss #80 was urgent and a fine way to shut me up. Our last few kisses had been sad or forced. This one was very different. It demanded more. My heart sped up, blood rushed down to my closest friend, and he came alive as quickly as a switch being flipped.

Oh, this was right, wasn't it? It had to be because it felt right, more right than any of the other times, that weren't unpleasant, but had never felt this _good_.

I summoned past lovers so I could determine how to drive Blake crazy. Monica liked her thighs to be worshipped with tiny kisses. Sweet Monica, with her slim hips and small breasts that were gorgeous, despite her refusal to believe it. Rosaline melted when I asked her for instructions. She hated the way I did everything and called me a slow learner. My first, stuck-up Janis, liked to squeeze me so close I had trouble thrusting properly. She used to giggle whenever she looked directly at my penis. It had made me wonder if I was small until I broke down and asked her, and discovered it was one of the biggest she'd seen. She only laughed out of embarrassment; which terribly confused me, because how could someone be mortified by the parts and not the practice?

Blake acted like he wasn't born with an ounce of shyness. He pulled my cock out and grabbed it as if it were his own. It was hard to focus on the task at hand (driving him crazy), while he was stroking me, but it didn't take me long to notice that his breath hitched when I used my tongue. Aha! I pulled his shirt over his head and started mapping his chest with the slick muscle.

I took my time with the trunk of his body, but I wasn't satisfied with his feedback until we finished undressing, and I got to work on his cock. I'd never sucked a guy off before, but I took the purpling skin into my mouth without hesitation, and Blake rewarded me by chanting my name. It gave me the most exquisite feeling. In that moment his pleasure was my pleasure, and the bliss inside me was bottomless.

When he climaxed the taste threw me off, but I swallowed as much as I could, because it came from him. His shudders made my own need intensify. Blake seemed to sense this. "Your turn," he uttered, as he caught his breath. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before I climbed up his body.

It was as if he had run a marathon. His eyes were glossy, his face was reddened, and his hair was damp with sweat. One good look at him gave me endless fantasy material.

"You're a lot bigger than me," he whispered matter-of-factly. "Don't expect me to take in what you did."

I caressed his cheek. "Do what you're comfortable with." _Just touch me, god, please, I can't stand it, fuuuck _– ran through my head, but I kept that to myself.

We flipped and he went down without another word. His enthusiasm was unmistakable as he took the tip in his mouth and petted it with his tongue. It was then, as I fought to keep myself from thrusting into the warmth, that I learned the meaning of self-control.

I'd never had to show much restraint in the bedroom before. Maybe because while everything I'd done before Blake had felt great, my interest in girls had more to do with raging hormones, and curiosity, than true attraction.

Whatever the reason, I came in record time, too hastily to warn Blake. He spat out the first spurt of come, but kept fondling me until the last drop seeped out.

"You called me another name."

"What?"

"You were thinking of someone else," Midas accused, looking up at me in astonishment.

"You must have heard me wrong."

He rose from his knees. "You called me Blake."

I blinked. "Oh."

"Put your dick back in your suit, and get out of my office—"

"Midas—"

"—and don't drop by again."

"Jeez, I never took you for the jealous type."

"I'm the type who can only put up with so much imperfection." The navigator's dark eyes looked pointedly at my eye-patch.

I froze.

Midas turned away from me and took his time lifting my clipboard off his desk. When he turned to face me again he had the posture of a superior. "You coming to me for guidance is enough to arouse suspicion. We're lucky the commanders see fostering better relations between fighters and navigators as a noble cause, but there are more pressing matters at hand and spending all this time with you is… I suggest if you still require a mentor that you find a fighter to fill my shoes."

I nodded slowly. "Understood."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, so I wasn't sure how I wanted to do this chapter. I'd like to focus on things that have happened to Praxis during Chapter 2 of Starfighter Comic; however I'm not comfortable with lifting dialogue from the comic and using it in my story, even with a thorough disclaimer. So, I'll be writing Praxis's perspective on certain scenes from Chapter 2 after they've taken place.

CHAPTER FOUR

I wasn't right in the head. The death of my navigator triggered something in me. Ever since the battle gone wrong I couldn't stop seeing - hearing - _feeling_ Blake.

With a flash of anger I thought maybe I would have been better off if the Reliant's new navigator hadn't saved me. Commander Cook's favorite, they'd called him. The fact that he went out of his way for me (a fighter) spoke volumes about him.

I'd been thinking a lot about that navigator when, as if on cue, I heard someone shout his name. When I first saw Abel, I was thrown off by his appearance. He was a pretty boy with big round eyes. His looks drew me in, then I spotted his face's one, insignificant flaw. The thin scar on his lips. And I realized in horror that a shiny new toy had been thrown to the wolf.

It had been an awkward turn of events. I wanted to warn him, but then Cain's little rat approached us and I decided to keep my mouth shut. Neutrality didn't do me any favors though. The minion went straight to his master.

I examined my bruised cheek in the mirror.

This is why I would shut my emotions out. If I didn't I got blindsided by bastards like Cain, whose ass would have been tossed over the railing if he hadn't jumped me while I was still recovering. My brawl with the savage navigator left me feeling brave and stupid. I still haven't decided which adjective is more fitting.

When I first met Cain malice lit his eyes as he hammered some poor son of a bitch's head against the floor. "He's not just blowing off steam like some of us," one stocky fighter said to me in a stage whisper. "This is what Cain calls fun." Stocky's friends had snickered in cruel amusement.

Sometimes his cockiness would remind me of my younger self, but it didn't take long for me to see that he wasn't just strong willed or a bully, the guy was a psychopath. And he would only let someone get close if he thought they were weaker than him.

He would have hated Blake, and while Blake might've appreciated Cain's animalistic nature, if a fighter tried marking him like property he would've scarred the man back, in a really delicate place, and he would've used something far more efficient than teeth.

I've wondered which group of soldiers Blake would fit in better with. He'd have more of a say in the matter than I did, since his bloodline was muddled.

All of a sudden I could see it clearly, his light haired and pale faced family from his father's side, staring at me at Carl and Viv's funeral with their turned up noses.

I looked hard into the mirror and shook my head. Everything was blurring. A small arm encircled my waist from behind.

_Blake… I'm slipping._

I sat down beside dad at the table and he glared at me while he shoveled egg into his mouth. I mentally armed myself for what was coming.

"You're about to graduate and Blake's just finishing his sophomore year."

I stared blankly at him.

"And when summer comes," dad continued, "he's going to live with his grandparents, cities away."

"Why are you telling me things I already know?"

"He's been spending the night in your room. Don't think I don't know what's going on in my own home." His eyes narrowed and he added, "At all times."

I gave him a side-eye. "Well, that's creepy."

"Praxis, don't be a smart ass."

"Dad, I love him."

"What do you know about love?" he scoffed.

"Only bad things before Blake, because of you."

Dad slammed his fist on the tabletop, and looked as if he was biting back so many words. I kept eating my breakfast like we were having a normal father-son chat.

"You're always taking it out on me," I continued. "Mom leaving has nothing to do with Blake."

Dad exhaled as his face fell into his open palm. "We're not talking about your mother or what I've done wrong. We're talking about your future."

"He is my future."

"So, you'll move up north with Blake, to a place where people who look like you are only ever beneath people who look like him?"

"If he was dark haired and had tan skin you would find something else to harp on. I'm tired of this."

"This isn't only about you," dad insisted. "Whenever Blake looks at you, he's going to think of his dead family, and he's going to remember the attack. The pain he feels when he's with you, it must be agonizing."

"Stop it," I snapped, as I rose from the table. "Stop trying to ruin us."

"I know you see it too," he whispered.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," I lied as I slipped on my jacket.

I put on a happy face as I left the house. I had enough on my mind with graduation inching closer. I wasn't going to let anything spoil my weekend. I put on my silver, feather-light helmet and hopped on my favorite mode of transportation.

I felt a little guilty for being short with dad as I flipped the power switch. After all, he had bought me my sporty, burnt-orange hover bike. I could only hold so much against a man who gave gifts like that.

The city was rapidly rebuilding. I passed countless construction sites as I made my way to city hall. Blake had been up bright and early so he could attend a council meeting on the memorial they were putting up in honor of the civilian victims. He'd gotten awfully political in the last month after he met activists at a survivors meeting.

I landed in a narrow parking spot, right in front of the building. Blake was waiting for me there. He was sitting at the top of the steps, drumming with his hands on the spare helmet in his lap.

A tall, skinny guy I didn't recognize was pacing back and forth, beside Blake. He pumped a fist in the air and said something that made Blake chuckle.

I hopped off my bike and took off my helmet. "Hey, baby!" I shouted.

Blake stood. "Hey, good lookin'!"

I looked over my shoulder, then back at him as I pointed to my chest and mouthed, 'Me?'

Blake rolled his eyes. "Yes, you." He gestured toward his friend as they came down the steps to greet me. "Boyfriend, this is Logan. Logan, this is boyfriend."

The scent of alcohol filled the air as they reached the last step. I couldn't help recoiling slightly. "Have you been drinking?"

Blake sniffed himself. "Maybe."

"At a council meeting?"

He batted his eyelashes at me. "Yeah, so? Who are you, my father?" He paused and dramatically gasped. "No, you couldn't be – because he's dead. Hahahaha."

Blake's bubbly giggles spread to Logan, who I glanced coldly at before I turned to leave. "Let's go."

Blake put on his helmet and followed me. "Yes, sir." He got on the bike, behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

Logan waved at us. "See you next week, Blake. And nice meeting you, boyfriend."

I zoomed out of the parking lot without acknowledging him. From there we went straight to the meadow. Before I'd finished landing in the center of the grassland Blake jumped down, sat his helmet on the ground, and went running into the distance.

After I finished landing I got off, sat my helmet down on my seat, and leaned against my bike, waiting patiently for him to finish scouring the flower beds.

This meadow was our favorite spot when we were kids. It existed just outside of our city limits and was the only nearby place we could go to escape urban living.

About ten minutes passed before Blake returned to our spot, with his hands full of yellow daisies. He threw them into the air and looked about in glee as they fell around us.

I cocked an eyebrow. "What's the point of this?"

"I told you. I want them surrounding us."

"Yes, but why?"

He grabbed the collar of my jacket and brought our lips together. I disregarded the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

When we parted he smirked at me. "I want to smell them while we're doing _you know what_."

"That's why you wanted to come here?"

"Mm-hm."

"To do it?"

"Mm-hm."

"…here?"

"Yep."

I didn't fight it as he shoved me to the ground and climbed on top of me. "How do you want it?" He nipped at my lip and then my ear. "I have lube."

"Would you want to – here?" I asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, yeah, let's do it," he whispered as his hands went straight for my zipper.

I could tell he was in a fast and hard mood, so I didn't hold back. I took my jacket off and laid it out for him. We switched places and Blake turned to face the ground. "Lube's in my back pocket," he muttered.

I pulled out the packet of lube – wondering where he got it and how long he'd been planning this – and set it aside. My heart raced and my face got hot as I undressed Blake's lower half. We were going to do it outdoors, in broad daylight! Somehow the lack of privacy made it that much sexier.

I dragged my tongue over Blake's lower back and down the crack of his ass. He moaned my name when it found his hole and slithered inside. The feel of the warmth within him made my stiff cock throb. I tried to keep its urgency at the back of my mind so I could prepare Blake properly. I grabbed the packet, tore it open with my teeth, and squeezed a little lube onto my middle and index fingers. Blake winced as I slipped them inside.

"Sorry," I said softly. "Too fast?"

"I'm fine," he objected sharply, "keep going."

"Tell me to slow down if you need it."

I started scissoring my fingers and his muscles loosened reluctantly. I curled them and felt that nub inside him. I massaged it with my fingertips and breath rushed out of Blake. "Oh, feels so good." He started humping my jacket.

When I was sure the attention to his prostrate had fully relaxed him I gently removed my fingers. "Ready?"

"Yes, I want to take your cock," Blake requested hotly.

"God. If you keep talking like that this will be over fast."

"Then you better hurry."

"I have to lube up." I squirted the rest of the lube onto my cock and spread it with my hands.

"Come on, Pr—" he broke off as I shoved the tip inside him. "Ah, fuck! Oh, Praxis!"

I worked my way deeper with every thrust, my shaky hands roughly gripping Blake's hips. I had never made it all the way in (I was too big and Blake was still really tight), but I came pretty close that day as I buried my cock inside the wet warmth, over and over. I got lost in the pleasure and smell of daisies. I forget that we were outside, that we could be moments away from a stranger discovering us.

"Fuck, Blake," I grunted as I came.

He stroked himself faster and his release hit him right after mine. Even though the elevated feeling had left me I savored the sensation of him contracting around my cock as he climaxed. My hands kept on shaking as I caressed his back. By the time his tremors faded I'd gone limp inside him. I slowly pulled out.

Blake rolled over and pulled his underwear up. "Our best so far," he said lazily.

I collapsed on top of him and planted a kiss on his chin. "Hell yes." I rested my head on his chest. "So, what are you and Logan doing next week?"

"We're going to an anti-war protest."

"Really?"

"Really. Is that okay with you, dad?"

I ignored the jab. "If that's what you want to do."

"It is."

He held me close and I pretended I wasn't worried.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

"Requesting entry," the doorbell announced. "Third entry request."

I forced my tired limbs to climb out of bed and to the door. When it slid open no one was there, but a head sized box, with Blake's name labeled on it, had been left on the porch. I lifted it into my arms and carried it to the kitchen. Blake was there, stirring something in a small pot at the stove.

I dropped the box on the table as I plopped into a chair. "What're you doing?"

Blake whipped around. "Careful with that."

"Sorry. Is it fragile?"

"It's for the memorial." Blake turned off the electric burner and poured whatever he was making into a travel mug, then twisted the cap on tight. He looked a little anxious as he rinsed out the pot.

He'd been acting weird ever since the memorial's reveal date was announced. It was going to be a huge deal for the city. Commander Hash was giving the main speech at the event. His orders against the Colterons had caused the attacks on civilians. Blake and his new friends had been outraged. They thought a time meant to honor the ones we'd lost was going to turn into a photo-op, to help the military re-gain goodwill with the people and to raise the war's popularity ratings.

Keeping the military from using the memorial to their advantage was all Blake had on his mind now. We'd cancelled a visit to his grandparent's city. A trip we'd scheduled so I could check out the job market and tour some trade schools there.

I'd started wondering if he was using all of this rallying against the machine as an avoidance tactic. He'd changed so much in a short amount of time, and he was frustrated at my hesitance towards embracing his new way of thinking. But then, Blake wasn't the type of person to stay with someone he didn't want, was he?

"Should I open it?" I patted the box.

"No," Blake said, too quickly.

I fought the urge to disobey him. "What's up? You seem distracted. Did you even hear the doorbell?"

"It's not like I want to be on edge," Blake said, his voice trembling a bit.

He looked so out of place then, in one of my nightshirts that swallowed up his small frame and tight sweatpants he had rolled up to his knees. Deep down all I wanted was to close the space between us; to take him in my arms until he looked like he belonged here. Until he looked like he belonged to me again. But I didn't. I was so weary of these mood swings and my patience was thinning.

I ran a hand through my hair, not knowing what to say. The silence stretched out until Blake was brave enough to end it. "You're tired of this."

"Yes," I admitted, feeling as if I would die of shame. He was in so much pain. He'd lost everything. Who was I to demand things from him?

"You wish I could get over it."

A pause, then, "Yes."

"You want the old Blake."

"I…" So badly my heart ached.

"You're not the only one, but he's never coming back."

Wiping the tears from his face, Blake rushed forward, grabbed the box, and walked out of the kitchen without looking at me.

For the remainder of the week our interactions felt like chores. By the time the morning of the memorial came I began understanding my father's bitterness.

That's when the news came, just after ten A.M. I was slumped on the couch, scrolling through pictures of Blake and me in my digital photo album. Our television screen blinked on, as it was programmed to do when breaking news was broadcasted.

For a moment there was no audio, but the images of mayhem that flashed across the screen said it all. Something had happened at the memorial. Something had gone horribly wrong.

"Oh, gosh, are you okay? Who did this?" The voice of my baby-faced, unruly haired navigator banished the memory so quickly my heart jumped into my throat and my eyes bulged as my head jerked in his direction. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said weakly. His hand halted in the air, inches away from my shoulder.

"Typically the bathroom is a private place," I said sourly.

"You left the door open. I thought you were having trouble with your head again. Did you mention it to _Midas_?"

The name made my skin prickle. "No, and neither will you."

His mouth fell open. "Really Praxis – I won't. You can trust me. But with your recent injuries you might be forced to go to medical anyway, before we board the Sleipnir. It couldn't hurt to-"

"I won't board at all if they think I'm crazy," I cut in darkly.

"We're all crazy," Ethos said kindly. "We're going to Colteron space."

"Heh." I almost smiled at him. "You've got that right."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: In this chapter the Starfighter timeline changes a bit, giving the characters a week before boarding the Sleipnir.

CHAPTER SIX

I squeezed into the lift, shoulder to shoulder with navigators and fighters. It went down a couple floors, before I went to step out at the next stop, when I heard someone hiss, "Stay Praxis."

I hung back, feeling eyes on me. When the doors slid shut I turned to see Deimos standing very straight in the back right corner.

"We should talk," he said in a raspy voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Get off with me," he said under his breath.

I tried to formulate a response and came up with nothing. I wasn't used to hearing him speak to anyone, let alone me.

When the lift stopped at our barracks floor he maneuvered past entering soldiers. I followed him, with less grace, accidentally rubbing against some comrades as I stepped out of the lift. He walked briskly down the hall, paying no attention to the fighters who leered openly at him. We went past several indistinguishable doors before Deimos stilled in front of one with the number sixty-three above it. He pushed the open-button and waved a hand at the entrance.

"You first," I said. He obliged without a word. I didn't take my eyes off him as I entered and pushed the close-button.

Deimos strolled over to his nightstand and swiped some dust up. He smoothed it over his latex covered fingertips as he smirked at me with his eyes. "I know who you are," he claimed. "You're a good liar. I always saw you as the runaway country boy you presented yourself as. My, my, what a tangled web you've woven."

I had the sudden feeling that a spotlight was shining on me. "What is this?"

"Who'd of thought," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "that you are K.B. What's it stand for? The Killer's Boyfriend, right?"

Anger struck me with surprising force and I lunged at him. He didn't even flinch. Instead he gave me an unpleasant smile as I roughly pinned him to the wall.

"You have a lot of nerve," I spat. "First you tattle on me to Cain, and now you dare—"

"I don't scare easy," he whispered. "And when I am scared I enjoy it."

Those darks eyes were laughing now. I breathed in deep to keep myself from striking him. "Who else knows?"

"There's no one else."

"Then how do you know?"

"That's irrelevant. All you need to know is what you're going to do for me in the interest of keeping your secret – secret."

I released his wrists, and this time I fought the impulse to choke him. "Okay. Do share."

"Midas isn't fond of my navigator. Midas has been policing him like crazy and since the yin to my yang is such a challenged individual, he's had a few slip ups that did not go without notice."

I snorted. "Shocker."

"_Anyhow_, Midas wants to keep our ship away from the excitement, but his opinion on who boards the Sleipnir will be disregarded once the powers that be discover he's been playing doctor with subordinates."

"I see," I damn near growled. "You want me to ruin a man's career so you can play war games with your crush."

Deimos bit his lips together. It was the first time he didn't look in control.

"Yeah," I said coolly. "I heard the Reliant was the first ship to volunteer."

"Another irrelevant topic, K.B." he said harshly. "Take Midas down or soil your own name. Plenty higher-ups have gotten off with subordinates, but being the ex of a psycho who blasted himself – and one of our greatest commanders – into dozens of pieces isn't something you come back from."

It had taken a moment, but the panic finally set in. I grappled with a way out of Deimos's demands, none of which included the courage to tell him to fuck off.

"Let me talk to him," I begged. "I don't have to go over his head."

"I don't care how it happens, as long as his influence is kept on a leash, but this is your only chance. If you don't solve this I won't hesitate to out you." He served up the threat with so much joy – it made my blood run cold.

I went straight from his room to my own with my head down, and my stomach revolving. So, this is where hiding my identity took me, to blackmailing superiors for scum like Deimos. The feelings swirling inside me turned uglier by the second.

I thought of Blake's face. All my memories of him right before his death were worn out from the countless times I'd returned to them during questioning from my father, the authorities, and just about everyone else I knew. Needless to say, I had grossly misread his actions and failed to see how deep his pain ran, and the power it held.

Even after the digital journals the authorities had confiscated were leaked for the world to see I couldn't find my Blake in them. This other Blake experienced things drastically unlike how I had.

When he wrote of the attack, he wrote only about Mikel, without one mention of me saving us. He hated his grandparents for begrudgingly accepting me and at the same time he hated me for being the lowlife they imagined, with my vile point of view on war. My dad wasn't the gruff drunk who made everything about my mother, but the single parent who worked hard to erase the parts of his past that could limit me. We were both traitors to our parents. Our first time made him realize no pleasure would cut deep enough to outweigh his agony. My disinterest in politics was a bold-faced rejection of his only remaining thread to a feeling of purpose. And the sex in the meadow was a goodbye.

It was rather inconceivable. It took me a long time to realize Blake had been clinically depressed before the attack, that his outward strength was disguising his inner turmoil. The death of his family was not what made him miserable, but it had made him snap.

It was impossible to explain to outsiders. He was the love of my life. How did I not know? Why didn't I ask questions about his ever growing circle of extreme minded friends? He lived in my home, where he put together most of the bomb by himself. Why didn't the package make me suspicious? How did I drop him off and pick him up from meetings with these people without catching a hint of what was really going on?

I suppose I cannot fault the vilifying media frenzy that honed in on me. The others involved had been arrested and were sentenced without a trial to a lifetime of admiring the confines of their windowless cells. Blake was dead. I was the only one left to hate. It would have been awfully disappointing if my ignorance and innocence was true.

The sound of the door disrupted my thoughts. I went straight from my bed to the cold floor and began doing push-ups to explain how flustered I must have looked.

Ethos walked in wearing a dimpled smile. "Hey P., I heard a peculiar rumor."

I froze. "Oh, yeah?"

He closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed. "As if you'd fool around with Deimos."

"Ha, where'd that come from?" I asked, with faux nonchalance.

"Porthos said he saw you go into his room."

"Just Porthos?" I guess I didn't say it casually enough because his brow creased.

"Just Porthos," he said, with an edge to his voice.

I glanced down towards my feet as I rose. "I have to shower before a meeting."

"Meeting? With whom?" he asked, without a hint of mistrust.

I relaxed and looked him in the eye. "Midas."

"I thought those were over."

"We're tying up paperwork."

"Be careful," Ethos warned. "Paperwork puts Midas in a terrible mood."

I nodded. "Good to know."

Blake's voice intruded my mind. "_I bet he'd favor paperwork over coercion._"

My eyes hastily searched the room, as if they expected him to appear in the flesh. When he didn't I headed for the bathroom. Ethos watched me intently.

"Praxis, you've gone pale," he fretted.

I attempted to fake a smile, but my face refused to cooperate as the muscles in it twitched. "My first mid-day workout since I was injured. I reckon I pushed myself too hard."

"Well, take it easy, I need my fighter at his best."

"I will," I promised.

I managed to make it to the bathroom before my lunch fought its way up.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Stunned by my own daring, I bypassed Midas's secretary and walked straight into his office. But that didn't stop Thryn from following me with a perturbed face. Midas looked up from the holographic training simulation he was watching. "Fighter, you shouldn't be here," he said authoritatively, without a hint of our shared history.

I tried not to look wounded. "I'm well aware, and I'd never dream of dropping by like this, but I have an urgent matter to discuss, sir."

Midas glanced at Thryn, who simply gazed helplessly back. "Should I escort him out, sir?"

Midas turned off his simulation and stared at me with eyes that were hard to read. "Leave us."

"Yes, sir."

After the door shut behind me, I strode over to the chair facing the desk and sat. "I don't know where to start."

"Let's start with where you got the balls to come waltzing into my office without an appointment."

"I didn't have a choice. Midas, we're being blackmailed. A fellow fighter is using our past… connection against us."

"Who?" he asked, in a tone that passed for civil now.

"Deimos, sir."

"Ah, I'm not on good terms with his navigator."

"I know, apparently you're keeping him away from the Colteron mission and he's awfully pressed by it."

"Why's that?"

"He has a thing for the Reliant's fighter."

"Cain. I don't care for him, though he is talented."

"There aren't many who do like him, a side effect of being an utter shit."

"Do you think he's involved?"

"I don't know. We were careful. There aren't any rumors going around about us, which means someone close to you probably told Deimos, and that's only a handful of people, none of them fighters."

There was a knock and his eyes shifted to the door. "Come in."

Keeler came in. We both stood at attention. He tipped an invisible hat at us. "Good evening. It's been ages since I've seen a ship full of this much excitement." He smiled brightly as he appeared to be pulled into a daydream.

"Er, sir…?" Midas trailed off and made an irritated noise in his throat as we reclaimed our seats.

Keeler came back to the moment with twinkling eyes. "Oh, forgive me. I'm just so caught up. Isn't it exhilarating?"

"Indeed it is," Midas said flatly.

Keeler wriggled like a child who needed to use the potty. "Anyway, I won't keep you. I stopped by to see how the status report is going."

Midas leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad you did. It's nearly finished, should be good to go by the time we board your ship. I was actually about to swing by to update you and ask a favor."

"Really?" Keeler squeaked.

I knew then Midas had to be as cagey with Keeler as he was with me, and everyone else I'd seen him interact with.

"Could you get me access to the general service records?" Midas asked.

Keeler clapped his hands together and vigorously nodded his head. "Without hindrance. I'll send you the passcode by the end of the day."

Midas managed a smile. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Keeler said. Then promptly left.

I sighed. "Do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?"

"I make people uncomfortable?" his deep voice questioned innocently, without any sarcasm peppered on.

"Sometimes." I paused. "Mostly."

Midas smirked. "I'll take care of this. Deimos will be on the Sleipnir."

"Good."

"I'd like you to find out who fed him the information on us before you board," he went on.

"And how am I going to do that?"

"Once I get a look at his records I'll think of something."

We both stood and he ushered me out of his office.

Things didn't get blurry for the rest of the day, but when the time for sleep came the memories dug in deep.

A strand of metallic pearls around mom's neck, a present after her broken collarbone had healed. When dad fastened the necklace she cringed as if she was stung by the touch of the pearls on her skin. Dad promised he would never be violent again, and he never was, not even after she left. The one time he got close, he took his anger out on my possessions instead, and said sorry with a brand new hover bike.

The resentment… it started to feel raw again, and I'd almost rather think of… Midas. I'd rather think of how my tongue traced one of his laugh lines, and how my fingers petted his coiled chest hair. Pretending that he's nothing like dad with his orders, and his distance, and his gruffness.

I ignored my conflicting emotions as I drifted into sleep.

Morning arrived, the alarm went off, and as I sat up my head felt less heavy than it had the previous morning. Ethos was at my side, ready with an aspirin in one hand and a glass of water in the other. I felt stupid as it dawned on me that he might've been seeking more than friendship. Or maybe he just relished being needed. One could hope. Things were already past complicated.

"Thanks, but you don't need to keep doing this," I told him gently.

"I'll do it until you're better," he said defiantly. "Did you hear about the party?"

"A party, on the ship?"

"As much of a party as could be expected to take place on the ship. It's going down during maintenance hours on the hanger bay. I guess they bribed the maintenance guys to look the other way. They're setting up a couple card tables."

"Card tables?"

"Well, big boxes that will pose as card tables. We only have a small window of opportunity but it'll be a blast. We should go."

Ethos was normally anything but reckless. I wondered if he was trying to impress me. I'd seen it before, a navigator playing the bad boy role to show a fighter they weren't just another boring, punctual ass-kisser.

"Come on, Praxis," he begged. "I'm not going to say you owe me. However, I think I've been a fine caretaker and if you wanted to make it up to me this is how to do it. I want to go, but I have a feeling mostly fighters will be showing up and it'd be nice to have a friend among them."

I popped the aspirin in my mouth and washed it down. "Okay, I'm in."

"Seriously?"

"Why not?"

Ethos brushed his fingers through his wild hair. "I'll have to do something with this."

Midas was not in a good mood that morning. Yeah, what else was new? He was typing with entirely too much force when I entered his office.

"Shut the door," he hissed.

"I like it when you're bossy," I flirted, not knowing where the hell that came from.

He glowered at me. "Do shut up, and sit down."

_Good morning to you too!_

He appeared to chalk my comment up to temporary morning insanity and moved on. "I have an idea." He withdrew a tiny baggie from his desk drawer. There were two blue pills inside it.

"What are those?"

"A drug our dearest Deimos is allergic to. These pills are dissolvable. You can slip him one."

He held the baggie out to me and I hesitated. "What would they do to him?"

"Just one could kill him. I figure half a pill would make him the right kind of nervous, but you'd be left with a decent window of time to question him before he gets too sick."

"And what if just half a pill could do him in?"

"Then I guess one part of our problem disappears."

"_Midas_."

"Calm yourself." He reached back into the drawer and flashed a small, capped syringe at me. "Inject him with this and it will stop the assault on his system."

"Well?" Midas barked, when I made no move to take the items.

"I don't want to piss him off," I admitted. "And I want to accidentally kill him even less."

He gave me a knowing look. "He has something else on you."

"Something big. I'd rather keep it to myself if it's all the same to you."

The navigator didn't waver a bit. "All the more reason to show him you're not some pussy who lets emo-haired faggots fuck with him. No good comes from people thinking they own you because they know your secrets."

I rubbed my eyes. I should have been hot with anger and it should have been bubbling to the surface like the navigator's was, but I couldn't bring myself to get fired up. "I need to think this over."

"Take the drugs," Midas persisted. "If you do change your mind I want them on you."

"I suppose that makes sense." I seized the items and stored them in my boot.

"Good boy."

I shivered. He said it playfully, but those words brought up memories of his voice huskily whispering during more pleasant activities than plotting against our own. I found myself glancing at his full lips. He was never big on kissing. What a shame.

Ethos came out of the bathroom with a self-conscious look on his face. His hair was slicked back, and for the first time since he'd become my navigator he was dressed in casual clothes that were black and grey.

I smiled at him. "You look good."

He blushed. "Nah…"

"Yes," I said firmly. "You really do."

He moved to the door. "Let's go."

We had to be fast and quiet as we snuck out of the barracks. We ran into one other fighter/navigator duo. Hydro and Link were headed to the same place we were. When we entered the dark hanger bay we slowly made our way between the ships to the light glowing towards the center. There was one dome shaped flashlight, a deck of black and silver cards, and a bottle of vodka on each of the four overturned boxes that were posing as tables. Only five navigators were present, including Ethos, and a dozen fighters. Only one free table remained. Hydro, Link, Ethos, and I took its seats (four upside down buckets).

Brutus whistled. "Hey ladies." The pug-nosed fighter was at the table beside us. "I think you're the last who have the guts to show. Should we get started?"

Deimos was sitting at Brutus's table, with Cain at his side. I stared right at them. "What's the game?" I asked.

"Strip poker," Cain said, and then he howled. A couple fighters mimicked him.

"Hey, keep it down," Brutus huffed. His eyes searched our faces. "Any objections?"

Ethos fidgeted next to me.

"Strip poker it is!" Cain declared.

Link looked over at his fighter's jumpsuit. "We should do teams. Not everyone dressed for the occasion."

"Good idea. Who wants to be my teammate?" Brutus asked.

Cain snorted and took a swig of vodka. "I don't do teams."

Brutus slapped him on the back. "Don't be that way, we picked your game." Brutus stood. "Let's mix it up. No partnering with whomever you came with, we don't want anyone feeling too comfortable, do we? What's the fun in that?" He pointed to Ethos. "Chubs, you're with Cain."

Ethos was a deer in headlights. "Excuse me?"

"Come take my seat," Brutus ordered.

Ethos looked at me with pure dread in his eyes.

I stood. "I'll partner with Deimos."

Deimos shared a look with Cain, but he didn't protest. As everyone paired up Ethos and I went to their table. Deimos changed seats so he and I would be sitting across from Ethos and Cain. I began shuffling the deck and Deimos peered at me, his expression one of intent curiosity. Cain did not look happy to have me at his table, but he was trying to conceal his displeasure with a smug smile.

"Pixie," Cain called me, while he caressed the neck of the vodka bottle. "Can your patch be counted in the game?"

I shrugged. "I'll keep it in mind as a save for you if you get down to your tighty-whities. I think I speak for everyone when I say no one wants to see that."

The image of Cain in snug, white underwear caused quite an uproar. Deimos even let out a muffled chuckle. Cain shot daggers at everyone.

"Hey!" Brutus exclaimed. "No saves for anyone who's not your teammate!"

And so it began. Poor Ethos kept coming up with the worst hand and the vodka did not curb his shyness. He bit his lip as he pulled off his pants and stacked them atop his shoes and socks. It didn't help that his partner was by no means hard to look at shirtless and was entirely too comfortable being half-dressed. Deimos had only removed his jacket and boots, and I had only given up my own jacket and belt. Our team was winning.

"Fucking Ethos," Cain muttered, as if the navigator wasn't there.

My instinct was to stand up for Ethos, but I stopped myself when he gave me a pleading look and shook his head.

I lost the next round. When I went to remove my boots I felt the baggie and syringe. Shit, I'd forgotten them. The vodka was passed around before Ethos handed me the bottle. There was only a small amount of alcohol left. A sign from above?

I looked over at Deimos, and thought of all the power he held over me. All he had to do was say a few words to the right person and everything I'd worked so hard to separate myself from would be knocking down my door again. There was so many among the way that unwittingly helped me, so many people to disappoint.

While the others were distracted by the activity at another table, due to the first player who was forced to strip nude, I broke a pill in half and dropped it into the vodka. I swished the bottle around before I passed it to Deimos. "Do you want to kill it?" I offered. He mutely took it from my hand and gulped down the last of the alcohol.

The drug affected his system immediately. He wheezed and clutched at his collar. "What…the…" he fought to get the words out.

Cain shot out of his seat and was at his side in an instant. "What is it?" He grasped Deimos's upper arm.

Ethos gasped. "What's wrong with him?"

I gripped Deimos's other arm. "I'll take him to medical."

"Why?" Cain asked. "Because you two are so chummy?"

I had to think fast. "I have a friend who works this shift. He'll give me a break, but if you show up with booze on your breath he'll report it."

Cain released the trembling fighter's arm and narrowed his eyes. "Get on with it then."

I helped Deimos to his feet and he leaned his weight onto me. "Come on, we need to hurry."

I could see it was taking a lot out of him, but he compelled his shaking legs to move. Once we were out of the hanger bay I steered us into an empty hall and threw him against the wall. He flinched when his back smacked into the cold metal. He tried to stand, but without my help he had no chance of staying upright. I watched him fall to the floor with a sadistic smile crossing my face. It was nice, feeling the shift in power.

"Who told you about me?" I asked softly.

He face went pale and he started falling forward. I put my boot to his chest and shoved his back against the wall. I held my booted foot there to keep him up, putting more pressure on his chest than was needed.

"I can't – ta-talk," he choked out.

I pulled out the syringe. "You better, or you won't be getting this, and I don't know how much time you have."

He clung to my leg. "Ph-please—"

"If you don't tell me I'll let you die," I swore. Now I was shaking.

"Fucking…fuck—" he broke off, hacking up blood.

"Give me a name!" I roared.

"Kalo." The whisper was followed by convulsions.

I dropped to my knees as I tore off the cap of the syringe with my teeth. Deimos yelped when the needle stabbed his throat. The injection worked as quickly as the drugs had. Deimos went still and color returned to his face.

He pulled out the syringe and shook his head. "You've gone mad."

"You didn't give me a choice," I said in a harsh whisper. "And I have more of your allergen, so you better keep talking."

His bottom lip quivered. "I'll tell the commander."

"Go ahead, tell him," I challenged. "And I'll tell him how this all started."

He went lax against the wall. "Kalo, he's a navigator. Another bad egg Midas has policed."

"So, he brought you and your navigator into his revenge scheme?"

He closed his eyes and set his jaw. "Yes. He seduced Midas's secretary, and convinced the kid to tell him things."

"How did he know about me?"

When Deimos opened his eyes, his face was cold and composed. "He recognized you."

"Recognized me?"

"He bragged that he knew the domestic terrorist. He said he was from the same place and popular in the same circles."

I got to my feet and tried to say something, but words escaped me. Deimos stayed where he was. He studied me with his eyes, seemingly unaware of, or unconcerned by, the blood drying on his chin.

_Blake, this is all your fault_, I thought bitterly. And I waited for Blake's reply, nearly hoping for it, but there was no mysterious voice, no ghostly images. The ache in my head had faded. Whatever injured part of me that had caused such disarray in my mind was finally repaired.

"Praxis?"

"You'll be boarding the Sleipnir. Please keep this exchange between us."

He nodded curtly. "If you'll keep my allergy to yourself."

"Agreed."

As I left him loneliness overshadowed my relief.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

The door to my barracks room slid open and the harsh scent of sex hit me. My nostrils instinctively flared and my eyes widened in disbelief.

Ethos was arching his back, his damp face frozen in deep pleasure as Brutus rode his cock. And the sex had to be something else because they didn't even notice the door opening. It took a moment for the cool air from the hall to waft into the room and alert them to my presence.

When their bloodshot eyes darted in my direction I realized it was probably the alcohol that had made them lose awareness of their surroundings.

Brutus rolled off Ethos. "Shut it," he snapped.

"Sorry." I stepped inside and closed the door.

Ethos hid their naked bodies from the waist down with his blanket and leaned over the side of the bed to scoop their clothes off the floor. They struggled to pull them on under the covers.

"So, what the fuck is this?" I couldn't keep myself from asking. By that point the drunkenness was settling into me too.

"None of your business," Ethos scoffed.

"A fighter's fucking _my_ navigator—" I used my thumb to point at my chest "—in _my_ room and that's none of my business?"

Brutus looked at Ethos and licked his lips. "You have a real catch here, Praxis. Now, I can see why you'd be jealous, but I was told you two weren't like that."

"We're not." Ethos climbed out of the bed, not bothering to finish dressing his upper-half. Hickeys were scattered all over it. "I don't know what the hell your problem is, Praxis. Weren't you just off fucking Deimos right now?"

"What?" I shuddered. "No."

"I don't believe you!" Ethos shouted. "I think you were lying about not being in his room! I think he faked being sick so you two could get away together. Friend in medical my ass! Who's this friend?"

"Keep your voice down!" I shouted back.

"Why don't we all try to calm down before we attract trouble?" Brutus suggested, holding up a hand.

Ethos faced Brutus. "You're taking his side?"

Brutus went to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a belch.

I shook my head. "This is the guy you risk getting thrown in the brig over?"

Ethos looked between the two of us with exasperation. "This is so stupid. I haven't done anything wrong. Yeah, I brought a fighter back to our room, so what? A party in the hanger bay is a lot worse than that, but you didn't seem to have a problem with it. You even acted excited to be taking me, and then you ran off with someone else." Ethos's face fell. "Why are you doing this? If you don't intend to take my feelings seriously, the feelings you've got to know I have, then don't act jealous over me, because it hurts and it's confusing."

My voice softened. "You're right. I apologize." I glanced at a yawning Brutus. "Can we talk more about this once he's gone?"

Brutus moved to the end of the bed and put his shoes on. "I can take a hint."

Ethos touched his shoulder. "Thanks, Brutus. I'd like to continue this another time."

Brutus gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm holding you to that." He stood and I moved so he could cross to the door. He blew Ethos a kiss goodbye before he left.

Ethos blushed as he eased down onto the spot Brutus had just been sitting on. I watched him as I sat on my bed. We busted out laughing when our eyes met.

When the flood of laughter ceased I looked at the door and shook my head again, feeling lighter. "How did the two of you end up here?"

"After you left Cain kept being an ass," Ethos said, without any venom. "He got the other fighters to start in on me when I had to strip down to nothing. Brutus stood up for me and then he offered to walk me back when the games were over."

"Oh. I guess he's not so bad."

Ethos smiled. "Yeah."

I raked my fingers through my hair. "I – I want you to know, the reason I haven't acknowledged your feelings is because you're important to me. You're the first real friend I've had in a while and I don't what to fuck it up. I want us to have each other in our lives for a long time, if we can survive this war."

Ethos's smile turned sad. "I understand, but just tell me this. It's not because you're in love with someone else?"

I stared down at my lap. "You've got it all wrong. I don't have feelings for Deimos. I had feelings for someone else and he knew and I was trying to stop it from getting out. There are things I can't tell you now, I want to, but these secrets could affect other people, not just me."

He nodded. "Well, I hope it's all taken care of."

I frowned, feeling the foreshadowing of a threat in my gut. It wasn't over yet. This navigator, Kalo, wouldn't go off the war path just because Deimos was dropping out of the revenge scheme. He wanted Midas taken down a peg, he knew my darkest secret, and he was happy to share it if it was to his benefit. I had to find a way to get him in line.

"It will be," I said, wanting to believe it was true.

The next day Midas sent Thryn to fetch me in the middle of training.

"Hey, Thryn?" I stored my helmet and boxing gloves in a cubby and used the towel hanging around my neck to wipe the sweat off my forehead. "I hear you're screwing around with someone named Kalo."

Thryn hugged his clipboard to his chest. "Oh?"

I glared at him. "Don't play dumb. I know you told him about Midas and me because he's threatened to tattle on him. In fact, he wanted me to do the tattling."

His face twitched. "I had nothing to do with that."

"You had to know he wanted information on Midas for a reason," I said harshly.

Thryn drifted towards the door. "Please, don't hurt me."

I strode past him and blocked the only exit. "Why shouldn't I?" My fingers tingled. I wanted to grab him by the hair and slam his face into a wall, but I took in a deep breath instead and fought my rising thirst for blood.

He sneered at me. "Go ahead then, beat me! Rape me! What's with that face? What's with the revulsion? Should I believe you wouldn't rape me because you're such a nice guy? You don't seem to care that those animals – those fellow fighters of yours – they rape us navigators all the time. It's as common around here as the light of day is on earth. You're such predictable, boring creatures. You're nothing but savages and Midas is sick. Any navigator who lets your kind touch him is sick.

I held up a fist. "Shut up!"

He flinched.

"Your kind has futures, options beyond being blown to bits in space to prove you're worth a damn! What to do you think that does to people, huh? You think that might have something to do with the way we are – the way we treat others? But you don't give a fuck about that do you? Because on or off your ship you matter!" I spun around and punched the door, pretending it was one of Thryn's slender shoulders as my fist made contact with it. "Ssshit!" I hissed, instantly regretting it. I flexed my shaking fingers as I examined my bruised knuckles. I was lucky nothing was broken.

"I'm sorry," Thryn whimpered. "You're right, okay?"

I took a moment to get my breathing and adrenaline under control before I turned around. Thryn stared at me like he was about to piss his pants. I wasn't particularly proud of his fright, but I knew I'd gotten him scared enough to give me what I wanted. I was beginning to feel like some reckless anti-hero in an old school action movie. It felt good, but not quite right. Although I was a fighter it wasn't in my nature to stay and fight, before now instinct had always told me to run. "So, tell me everything you know about Kalo and I won't hurt you or rat you out to Midas, who you can bet won't be as forgiving as I am."

He sighed. "He works in the digital archives department. He's been couched there ever since he took a big risk during a mission and wrecked his ship."

"Midas had him couched?"

Thryn bobbed his head. "His whole career could go down the tubes if he doesn't get assigned to a new ship soon."

"If Midas made that happen, would it keep him quiet?"

"Midas would never help him, not even to save his own career. He hates Kalo. Hates him all over some gross fighter—" Thryn abruptly stopped talking as his mouth snapped shut.

I cocked an eyebrow. "What are you not telling me?"

His eyes flashed. "You're not the first. He had a thing for a fighter before you. Kalo was the fighter's navigator. Kalo accidentally got him killed."

That remark rendered me speechless.

Well, I'd always thought Midas and I had a lot in common beneath the surface. I suspected we had similar upbringings, and now I knew he was also part of the dead lovers club. I felt a little numb then, not sure if knowing more about him should've made me feel closer to him, or further away, considering he never shared the tragedy with me, but I never did tell him about Blake, did I?

Thryn glanced desperately at the door. "Look, that's all I know. He didn't like talking about himself. We mostly talked about Midas."

"What about me?"

He looked truly puzzled. "What about you?"

I realized with relief that he didn't know about my real past. "Nothing."

"Can we go now?" he pleaded.

I gave him a long look. "Let me get cleaned up."

"Go ahead," Thryn said thickly, blinking away tears.

I got in and out of the showers quickly and put on my uniform. Then I followed Thryn to Midas's office, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I knew another fight was coming.

Thryn opened the door for me and I walked past him, into the empty office. "He must have stepped out. Wait here," Thryn said, before shutting the door.

I lowered myself into a chair, and fought my exhaustion. I'd risen that morning not long after going to sleep, with a slight hangover following me into the new day. Memories of shaking an equally fatigued Ethos awake swirled in my mind as I began dozing off.

"Praxis?"

"Midas?" I stirred, feeling a hand on my shoulder.

The navigator was peering down at me with gentle eyes. He was decked out in his best dress uniform.

"You sure know how to spruce up. Where were you?"

His hand dropped to his side. "At a Sleipnir briefing. I didn't mean to keep you waiting, I was planning to see you before, but Thryn told me he decided not to disturb your training."

"Er, yeah."

Midas sat on the edge of his desk. "So, have you decided how you want to play this?"

I removed the baggie, with the remaining pill and a half in it, from my pocket and handed it to him. "It's done. He won't be bothering us again. But that stuff was brutal. He could have easily died from half a pill."

Midas shrugged. "Probably could have."

"You lied to me," I said moodily. "You could have made me a murderer."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I only wanted things done right."

"You want things done right? Then you won't fuss over doing what needs to be done to keep both our careers safe. You have to get Kalo assigned to a ship."

Midas flushed with rage. "I should have known he orchestrated this. I'll destroy him."

"No, you won't," I snapped. "I know how you must feel—"

"How could you possibly know how I feel?" Midas asked hotly.

I got to my feet. "Because I know what it's like to have someone you love die a horrible death, but you need to let it go. It's easy to blame those who are left behind after bad things happen," I said knowingly. "But it's not fair to them."

He put his hands on either side of him and shoved himself up from the desk. "You stupid little fool, nothing's fair!"

My shoulders slumped. "Please, if you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. Midas, this guy could really hurt me. You remember when I called you another name?"

He snorted. "How could I forget?"

"I just, I feel so good with you sometimes and it makes me think of him," I admitted. "It makes me think of Blake Moore, the love of my life."

Midas turned an odd, sickly color. He almost looked grey. "Praxis, I don't believe it."

"Believe it." I sat back down, feeling very weak. "Being known as K.B., I would have never gotten the security clearance to join the alliance, but when I ran away from home I met a recruiter, a very kind man, who got me in touch with the right people, and helped me join with a new identity. If I'm outed he could be arrested for treason. He saved my life; I won't let your petty hatred towards Kalo ruin his."

Midas surprised me then, getting down on bended knee and taking one of my hands in his. "Thank you for telling me."

"Despite the bullshit with the pills, I do trust you," I said in a low voice.

He brought my hand to his lips and held it there for a minute. "I've been awful to you."

"I didn't take it personally; you're not exactly pleasant to anyone else."

"I wasn't always like this. I've always been a little rough around the edges, but after," Midas paused, unable to say the fighter's name. "After _he_ passed, just getting out of bed in the morning became difficult. For you it had to be unbearable, dealing with Blake's death and the finger pointing."

"It's a special kind of hell I hope I never return to."

He sighed and released my hand as he stood. "I should be able to get Kalo back in the commanders' good graces, but it will look suspicious if I approach him while doing so. I'll have to make the deal through you."

"Good, I want a chance to talk to him."

"Then I'll authorize a visit to the archives for you," Midas said, as he walked to the door. I followed. "Is anyone else involved? Did someone tell him about you?"

I shook my head. "He claims he's from the same place as me, that he recognized me."

"Wow, that's some bad luck." He reached out and squeezed my hand. "But we'll resolve this. And perhaps after we board the Sleipnir you and I can start over."

My heart swelled and before I knew what I was doing I was cupping his face in my hands and bringing our lips together. The kiss was simple, sweet, and full of promise.

I returned to training and did a few battle simulations with Ethos. The whole time I was eager to put a talk with Kalo behind me and I didn't have to wait long. Just as Ethos and I were headed to the cafeteria for dinner Thryn stopped us in the hall and gave me my temporary archives pass. I wanted to catch Kalo before he left for dinner, so I didn't waste any time, I told Ethos goodbye and went barreling down the hall towards the archives department.

I tried to stop panting as I swiped the pass and entered.

The place looked empty but as my eyes roamed the room I saw someone in the back, sitting with his feet propped up on a tiny desk between the digital file stacks.

"Hey!" he hollered, not taking his eyes off his work. "Can I help you?"

As I came closer he looked up from his laptop and smiled grimly at me and I stopped in my tracks. In that moment I saw it, despite the changes in his face, due to age and maybe surgical adjustments. Though my memory of him had dulled over the years I knew the navigator was Logan.

He blinked. "Gosh, you know who I am."

"I thought you'd be in a cell like the rest."

"I was one of the first they caught during the sweeps, but they didn't have much on us," he said, sounding distracted. "Circumstantial evidence leads to fair trials without automatic detainment, so they needed one of us to flip on the others."

"And that was you."

"I got a new name with a clean record out of it." He sat his laptop aside. "Anyway, I knew you'd come. I expected you to be angry. Thryn told me about your little chat. I'm surprised you didn't harm him. I thought you fighters liked it retribution style?"

My brows rose and I thought, _There's a little Deimos in this guy_.

As if he'd read my mind Logan smirked and said, "I thought if anyone could keep their mouth shut on this station, it would be Deimos."

"You thought wrong."

"Obviously," he said, still acting maddeningly calm. "There's no fun in mutual incrimination when you're the one being sold out, but maybe I should thank him, because you're here to make a deal, aren't you?"

"You keep your information to yourself and you get assigned to a new ship."

"Midas must have a great, big boner for you," he said with awe. "How do you know I'll keep quiet once the deal's done?"

"Because," I said sharply, "as unpopular as K.B. is, I'm pretty sure the person who introduced Blake to bomb building will be tolerated around here even less than me."

"Fine, it's a deal." He offered a hand and I took it. "And I hope you won't be too irritable towards me if our paths cross again."

"I never did like you."

"I know, but why? I was fun, wasn't I?"

"You were a drunk, and you liked stirring the pot."

Logan folded his hands and sat them on the desk. "I have quite a sense of drama, but mine was nothing compared to Blake's. Sometimes I miss him. Do you?"

His gaze caught mine and I looked away. "I try not to. It hurts too much and I'm so angry with him and I can't stop. Maybe I could if what we had was real, but I never really knew him. Those journals made that clear."

Logan squinted at me with a bewildered look on his face. "You never got it, did you? He left those for you, to keep you safe."

I gaped at him. "What are you talking about?"

He bowed his head and let out a little laugh. "Oh, dear, he never would have dreamed that you'd take them at face value. Some of what he wrote was true, but most of the anger towards you, and praise for your father, was written to protect the people he cared about. To keep them from becoming pariahs. He portrayed you as good, disengaged people who would have never helped or suspected him. Even at the very end, when he was so full of hate that he didn't seem capable of love anymore, he still loved you, and he thought you deserved someone better."

I covered my mouth, feeling like I was going to be sick. Logan jumped up and rolled his chair to me. "Here, sit down," he said.

"No, I just need a minute." I took shallow breaths until my stomach stopped doing cartwheels. "Thank you," I whispered. "You can't imagine what you've given me."

Logan didn't say a word, but he gave me a faint smile.

I looked around and my world suddenly seemed brighter. For the rest of my life there would be mentions of K.B. and the psycho who blew himself up at a memorial. I had told myself the pain attached to all of that would never fade, but now I could feel the bitterness, loneliness, and anger dying inside me, and in their place hope was growing again.


End file.
